Would You Die For The One You Love
by 30 seconds to Mars Bars
Summary: It's the third Quarter Quell, and Kurt is back in the arena. So is Finnick Odair. But players in the Hunger Games can't fall in love, right? For there can only be one victor...
1. The Reaping

My heart beats rapidly against my frail chest. Darkness conceals me pretty well, although not for long. I pray the gamemakers have some pity left in their hearts of stone and keep it dark until they leave. Risking a glance, I move my head a fraction, so I can see them without giving away my hiding place. No-one seems to be there, but these are the games and the hidden spots where Careers can hide are limitless. I decide to burrow deeper under my bush that acts as my camouflage. Suddenly, the trees start to rustle. Careers. Through my bush, I can see the outlines of Cato, Clove and Marvel. A bitter taste comes to my lips. I feel this way towards the Capital as well as these people. To add to the darkness, a freezing chill hangs in the air. Trying to stop myself from shivering, I grit my teeth, ready to bear it for the rest of the night. I hear Clove talking with Cato; "Let's face it, he's not here."

"Yeh you probably ri- Shhh. Listen." Cato's footsteps crunch on twigs. He's coming. Closer and closer. I naw my lip to stop myself from screaming. I am going to die. My eyes flit to the heavens, to the Capital. They have taken my life, my courage, but the one thing they will never take is my dignity.

Arms wrap around my neck. I scream and kick to fend off this attacker, but they won't budge. A laugh echoes in my ears, but I can't work out where it's coming from. These strong, unmoving arms wrap me in some sort of net. I feel more arms help roll the net tighter and tighter until I can't breathe...

The cold, hard floor knocks me awake. My duvet is wrapped around my neck, making it difficult to breathe. I unravel the duvet from my neck, taking in gulps of air. I'm still shivering from the coldness of the dream. Pull yourself together! I tell myself. You are Kurt Hummel, victor of the 74th Hunger Games, if you can do it once, you can do it again. There is, of course, a chance I won't get chosen, Haymitch is a victor... I shouldn't be thinking like that! Haymitch is my friend and old mentor; He got me through the games! I'm not being selfish, death doesn't scare me. My family does. Thinking of Dad, Carol, even Finn brings me to tears. I've put them through hell once and I never want to do it again. This is proof that the games ruin everything. They tore apart my family, which we had just stitched back together, they gave us hope in a victor every year, and now they're even taking that away.

A swift glance out my window tells me it's about three in the morning. I decide to sleep on it. It's the least I can do for myself is to look reasonable for the reaping. And even my many Capital brand face products can't hide sleeplessness.

Sun streams through the curtains, into my room and onto my face. This morning seems perfect- too perfect. I am beginning to question this when I remember; the reaping. Soon, I am shoved in a pen with Haymitch next to an identical one with Missy Collins. Missy was a victor of the 67th Hunger Games. She is the youngest ever victor there has ever been, as she was twelve when she won it. Her tactic was to stay down and unnoticed. She followed the Careers around, and every day stole a few supplies. This proved to work, because when they finally found her, she was laden with knives and axes. She savagely killed all the Careers from her treetop hiding place, throwing knife after knife in their direction. She had very accurate aim.

Effie bounces up on stage, bright as always. Everyone knows she means well, but she is so very annoying. I guess she just can't help being a pain. "Welcome, welcome!" she chirps in that Capital accent. "As usual, Ladies first!" She rummages in the plastic ball, and no surprise the name says; "Missy Collins!" Missy steps up on stage, masking her emotion well. She shakes hands with Effie and the Mayor, then stands, waiting either for me or Haymitch.

"Now, for our male tribute." She takes a step forward and plunges her hand in the other reaping ball. Her hand surfaces, clutching a slip of paper. A deathly silence sweeps over the crowd. I see my family, desperate, hopeful. They know as well as I do thirty two slips of paper have Kurt Hummel written on them. My eyes slide to Haymitch's family where a woman stands alone, clutching a handkerchief covered in coal dust. It's clear she has been crying, but she's done her best to cover it up. She's from the Seam, with her olive skin tone and grey eyes, but her hair is exactly like Haymitch's. Dark curls fall past her shoulders, brushing her chest. I remember her vaguely from when Haymitch offered her money, but she wouldn't take it. I think she's his sister, but I can't be sure.

Effie's unfolding the paper, reading it, the saying to the microphone; "Our male tribute from district twelve is... Haymitch Abernathy!" Haymitch looks around at the staring faces. He doesn't look that surprised to be going up there. I sneak a glance at his sister. She has broken whatever thin boundary that kept her from crying and is now sobbing her heart out. Suddenly, I don't want Haymitch to go. He's the best adult I have come to tolerate, even If he's drunk most of the time, but there's one crucial thing that makes me want to never let him go. He helped me survive the games. I hate owing people, and Haymitch hates the games. So I find my legs running up in front of him and choking out the words; "I volunteer."


	2. Train

**A/N I apologise for the end of the chapter, all you klainers will hate me...**

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After that, everything happens so fast. I'm whisked away to the Justice building with Missy one my left, and an army of Peacekeepers to my right. They sit Missy and me on the velvet couch I sat on last year. From Missy's expression, I can tell she remembers it well. Her fingers swirl and rub the velvet to settle her nerves. I empathise with her, as I felt this terror last year. She, on the other hand hasn't felt this fear for so long, she has forgotten how real the pain is.

Soon, they usher us into separate rooms, so we can say goodbye to our families. I only have to wait a minute before dad, Carol and Finn come bursting in the door. It's clear they have been crying, except for Finn, he's been as oblivious as ever. He is holding something which I can't quite make out, until he comes into the light. Then I see he is holding Jessie. Jessie Anna Barbra the fourth is my beautiful green eyed kitten. Her black fur rolls out in waves across her body, sculpting her tiny face perfectly, not a hair out of place. Her light green eyes lock with mine and I know she understands. She understands that I'm leaving, most likely for good. Finn holds out her to me, not saying a word. None of us do. I put Jessie down and hug Finn. Soon everyone has joined on, sobbing silently. When the Peacekeepers come, I franticly look in the mirror, trying to wipe the emotions from my face. Picking up Jessie, I go to the Peacekeepers. I go to my death.

When I get to the station, Haymitch gives me a quizzical look, but doesn't say anything. By now, Missy has joined us and we are all boarding the train. I see Effie, searching for us in the busy station. Her face lights up when she spots us and starts to trot in her six inch heels. She clearly does not catch on our sullen mood, as she talks about our schedule. In a way it's comforting to listen to her always bright tone of voice that we always tune out. We step on the train and watch the door close behind us. As soon as it has, Haymitch turns to me and says; "So, volunteering for me at the reaping? You must have had a good reason. Do tell." He looks at me expectantly, searching for an answer. So I tell him everything, about seeing his sister (although I leave out the part about him being an amazing friend and mentor) His face goes from frowning to an understanding expression.

Dinner is horrible. First off, everyone (except Effie) wants to be left alone and refuses to talk. Little conversation passes between us, so Effie talks to us about our schedule. I don't listen to anyone or anything. I just stay inside myself with my thoughts and memories. After Effie's fifth attempt at conversation, something about what colour wig she wanted to wear to our interviews, I suddenly snap. "How can you care about what you're going to wear when it doesn't matter? You don't have to impress sponsors that have your life in their hands!" Everyone is shocked at my anger, especially as I volunteered for Haymitch. No-one seems to understand, so I stomp to my train car.

Not bothering to get undressed, I pull my cover over my head and scream. Tears start rolling down my face and onto the pure white sheets. These are tears of anger and hurt that pour out of my eyes. When my emotion finally runs out along with the tears, I feel like an empty shell, stranded and alone.

Hours pass by like minutes in my claustrophobic train car. I look at my bruised hands and vaguely remember trying to break the steel walls. A slight dent in one confirms it. I pull my legs out from under the covers and take a few steps. My hands are shaking as I lift one up to my fist shaped dent. I jump out of my skin when someone knocks on my door. Reluctantly, I open it, expecting to find Haymitch or Effie, but instead I see the worst person I could ever find on my doorstep. Standing in front of me is Blaine Anderson.

He looks at me through those sad, puppy dog eyes. _Why him?_ I think to myself. _Couldn't it be someone else?_ I went to school with Blaine and we sometimes talked. He was always surrounded by girls who obviously had a crush on him. When they finally got the courage to ask him out, it was really hard for him to let them know that he was gay. Even when everyone knew he had come out, girls still followed him on some kind of mission to make him straight. I laughed at them, knowing there was no hope. After he had come out, we started hanging out more, and we soon became best friends. I learned that he was kind, gentle but easily wounded by words. Not that anyone would think of being horrible to him, with his good nature and ability to make you feel special, even if you are an unworthy slut who would be better off dead.

Then everything changed. I had snuck into the woods for peace and quiet, when I saw a figure running towards me. He looked as though he had been running for miles without rest, food or water. At first I was confused. Then I saw the hovercraft. Without thinking, I grabbed his arm and pulled him into a circle of bushes. It was not an Ideal hiding place, but it would do. We waited for the hovercraft to pass over us, before he collapsed. I half carried, half dragged him to the local healer, Janine. He slept for three days straight and when he woke up, was fed until Janine declared he could go on his way. We all said goodbye and wished him the best on his journey.

A day went by before an army of Peacekeepers came and had the line up. They accused us of hiding a criminal in our mitts and searched for him through the day and night. Suddenly, they dragged Blaine from the crowd and declared him to be the one. I could sort of see why, they both had the same dark curls, but the alikeness stopped there. No matter how much we screamed and protested, they kept on dragging him to the hovercraft which had now landed. At the last minute, Blaine turned to me, tears in his eyes as he mouthed the words "_I love you."_ A peacekeeper gave a final tug on his arm, dragging his screaming body onto the hovercraft. I ran after it, screeching at the top of my range for it to come back, but I knew they couldn't hear me. Sinking to my knees, I wept tears of lost friendship and loneliness. Blaine was gone. I was alone.

That same sad look fills his eyes now, along with regret and a distant look in his eyes. I don't say a thing; I just stare at him back. Then his eyes flicker with something. He is willing me to understand something. I don't want to but I do. The very thought makes me tremble. I thought never seeing him again was bad, but this is far worse. My eyes scan his white uniform and then his great difficulty in swallowing. This can mean only one thing. Blaine Anderson is an Avox.


	3. Training

**A/N Hi! sorry about the long wait, I couldn't figure out how to start it! But could you please send reviws becuse I need to know If it's any good or not. Thanks!**

Those few precious moments we had together were the most emotionally confusing moments of my life. I was happy to see Blaine, but so sad that it had to be like this. Those silent words keep playing over and over in my head. _"I love you, I love you..." _I never knew he felt that way until it was too late. He loved me. And now his tongue has been cut because I helped that boy escape. We all did. Now he stands on my train car step, staring at me, his eyes piercing deep into my skin. Tears trickle over my cheeks as I step forward, without thinking, and hug him. He hugs me back in reply to my gesture.

"I'll never say goodbye to you." This is all I manage to say before I let the flood gates open and nuzzle into Blaine's neck. We stand like this for what seems like no time at all, before Haymitch comes over, and we jump apart. He is holding an empty white liquor bottle in one hand and a half full one in the other. I know he has not seen us because he's been drinking, and when Haymitch drinks, he doesn't notice anything. Except how much liquor is left. And even then, he has to check multiple times. I glance quickly in Blaine's direction as he gives a small nod to signify we should not tell him.

Soon, we arrive at the District 12 house. Even though I came here last year, the shock of how massive and comfortable my temporary room is stays the same. I curl my lip in disgust at the pastel coloured cushions, the same shade as Effie's hair, piled on the bed which I think is about the size of my room back home. Bed sheets are made entirely of some sort of lilac fluff, like an animal skin only thicker and obviously fake. This whole room is Capital branded and too... innocent. Most of the Capital citizens do not truly understand what hardships we face in the districts. We don't find them that difficult, until we get a taste of Capital life. Then pure hatred forms in our hearts. How can people live so... easily? I think that at least half of the Capital doesn't even know what each district does for the capital.

I lie awake all night. My nerves are getting the better of me, just as they did last year. Training begins tomorrow and the bad thing is I won't know anyone. Missy has had eight years to get to know these people, where as I only know them from watching the previous games. All I have to do is be prepared. Follow whatever advice Haymitch gives me and use it.

"You're joking, right?" It is an hour until training and Haymitch is giving me the exact opposite advice he did last year.

"This is no joke, Kurt. Last year I know I said differently, but then, everyone was new. Now, everyone has been through and survived the games, so they know what to expect. And you are clearly the underdog in this situation, so making allies could actually be a good thing."

"But you know me. I fight alone. I win alone."

"Now, Kurt. That strategy would be good if you were some sort of super-human which last time I checked you're not. So be a good little mentor's pet and follow orders." That was the point where I stormed out.

Missy, Effie and I left ten minutes earlier than we planned because we wanted to look-as Effie put it- "proper". After the little argument with Haymitch there was a foul mood in the air. I was furious that I wasn't allowed to continue my winning strategy of no allies. He also forced me and Missy to work as a team. Last year, my district partner completely ignored me through training, the chariots and the games. From what I gathered, she was far too slow to the supplies and never made it through the bloodbath. To be honest, I didn't have time to feel sorry for her as I never knew her that well.

After much complaining from Effie, we manage to make her stay in the elevator when we get there, because we don't want to be seen with our baby sitter. Last year was humiliation as District 12 was the last to arrive and the only one with an adult to look after us. This year, our "arrive early" plan seems to have worked since only District 5 is here. There is a man in his mid thirties, curly hair that looks way to freaky to be on him. I vaguely remember the 56th Hunger Games where he won by acting weak. He was surprisingly fast, so the careers didn't catch him in the blood bath and he spent the games hiding. After that, he got a lucky shot with a spear and killed the last District 1 tribute, claiming his glory as victor. I make a mental note not to under estimate him, but not to make an alliance either.

When all the Districts arrive, training begins. We get the same lecture that I got last year and, judging by the other tribute's faces, the lecture they all got the year they won. My eyes flit over the crowd of victors, some confident, others putting on a brave face, and a few having a total meltdown. Curly hair from District 5 looks pretty frightened, although he's trying not to show it. My eyes slide over to the female District 5 tribute. She looks about 50 with short blonde hair and an untrustworthy smile. I don't remember her game much, but when I see her, the name Sue crops up. I recognise a few others, but I can't recall all their names off the top of my head.

I decide to go to the fire lighting station first as it is probably my weakness out of all the stations. Missy and I decided to split up in order to be able to make alliances. She is at knife throwing classes right now. I think I will go there later.

As it turns out, lighting a fire takes allot of concentration, if you don't pick up any matches at the Cornucopia that is. After half an hour, I manage to get a spark and light my pile of sticks. At this point, most of the Carers are showing off their strength and lobbing swords at target manikins. My eyes search for Missy and then, I spot her. I stifle a laugh because talking to her is Finnick Odiar. Finnick is from District 4 and is known to flirt and sleep with a vast number of girls. They all melt in his presence and once he sleeps with a girl, he finds another lover immediately. I can't quite hear what he is saying to her, but he is offering her something in his hand. A sugar cube! Missy is clearly interested in him, not sexually, but too make an alliance with. Finnick would be a good ally, he's amazing with his gold trident and net, but can he be trusted? I decide to think it over, and in the meantime, find allies.

In order to get allies, I need to show them my strengths. What I'm best at. Over in the right hand corner is knife throwing. Several tributes have tried this and compared to the others they are doing pretty well. But no-one can match Kurt Hummel's ninja skills with scythe swords. So I stride over there and casually pick up a knife. The weight and balance is not quite perfect and the rubber on the handle is slightly peeling off, but that's what you expect in training.

I aim then throw it at the manikin. It flies straight to the heart. No one notices. I need to take it to the next level. What I need is a moving target. I tell this to the instructor and he nods whilst picking up a plastic bird. He chucks it in the air and I throw my knife at it, landing a direct hit to the stomach. He throws another one. Same result. A few heads are turning our way now, staring at the plastic birds falling with knives sticking out of them. Soon, the instructor starts throwing two at a time. Then three, then four and so on until seven birds fall at my feet, all with knives in their bodies. This is the first time I notice every pair of eyes in the hall is trained on me watching me take the knives out of the seven plastic birds. It is clear most people in here envy me and some would probably want to make an alliance. Casually, I twirl two knives between my fingers, watching everyone's mouths fall open. Then I put them all on the knife stand and strut out of the training hall as it is now our lunch break. I decide that Haymitch's orders might be slightly easier to follow now I have proved my strength.


	4. The Gamemakers

At Lunch, I feel like a nice quiet place to sit, but I know that won't happen, so I sit with Missy. She is talking to the District 7 tributes, clearly hoping they will become our allies. _Good. _I think to myself._ They could be useful as District 7 is Lumber. They can probably wield an axe already. _I sit down with them and join in the general talk. The female tribute is a girl with olive skin and shining dark hair. She has a slight smirk on her face, but you hardly notice it. It's as if she's saying "I'm queen, bitch." To her left is the male tribute. When I first saw him in his games, I practically burst out laughing. His head was bald apart from one strip of hair going from his neck to the top of his forehead. It looked like a squirrel had been shot and stuck up there for decoration. But no matter how stupid he looks, there is no denying he could be useful.

I sit between Missy and the male tribute from District 7 whose name I've forgotten. He looks at me for a brief moment before holding out his hand. "Noah." he says to me. I take his hand and reply "Kurt." Then I decide to make conversation to pass the awkward silence that follows. "So, I saw you in target practice today. You were pretty impressive with those axes." _Great. Just great. Sucking up to the other tributes. Way to go Kurt. _He snorts like it's nothing, then replies "Yeh, well that was nothing compared to your skills with those knives. You totally rocked dude!" I swallow down my urge to snap and tell him not to call me dude, but instead, I settle for a lame "Thank you."

All around the lunch hall, people keep staring and whispering. Not many have the courage to step up and actually talk to me, but a few do. After a while, I go back to the District 12 house for some peace and quiet. This is our first training day over.

I must have spent hours up there because the next thing I know, Haymitch is hammering on my door telling me to get my ass over to the dining room right now for dinner. He also tells me that my Private session with the Gamemakers is tomorrow. I'm hoping to equal my score of eleven from last year, but that probably won't happen. The highest anyone can get is a twelve, although I don't think anyone has got it before.

Missy and I wait to be called. I couldn't sleep at all last night due to the fact that I have no idea what to show the Gamemakers. They'll have knives in there, so I'll probably show them some tricks. Only District 11 is left now, besides me and Missy. The order goes from District 1 to District 12, boys going before girls in the traditional way. This means Missy and I have the longest wait out of all the Districts. Soon, the female tribute from District 11 gets called, leaving me and Missy alone and waiting.

"What are you going to show them?" I ask to break the awkward silence. Her eyes never leave the door as she answers; "I think I might do some tricks, camouflage, maybe savage a dummy or two." I laugh. Missy always brings a smile to my face when I am depressed. We sit smiling, despite our situation until a voice through a speaker says; "Kurt Hummel." Missy wishes me luck as I step out, ready for them. They look extremely bored and a few are checking their watches to see if this will take long. _Great. I have to show the best of my ability to a reluctant audience. _I take a deep breath and walk to the weapon stand. Suddenly, I realise what I must do.

The knives are the same as the ones in training, sloppily made and unbalanced, but the best fighter can make use of anything. I decide to take three and then walk over to the camouflage station. My eye catches on a pot of scarlet face paint. Perfect. All three knives I dip in the pot to give the effect of blood, and then I scoop a hand full of the paint and start to draw. My hands swirl over the white floor, creating an image. A few Gamemakers are looking to see if they can tell what it is. I finish my drawing and a few of them gasp, but before they can react, I throw my knives. All of them hit the same spot on the floor, swaying slightly. The Gamemakers stare in disbelief at what I have drawn on the floor. I smile at them. Now I have all their attention. I walk out, leaving my picture there for them to clean up. I can't believe what I have done. It feels good to have done it but I know the regret will soon come. Because painted on the Gamemakers floor is Seneca Cranes with three knives stuck in his heart.


	5. Wearing fire

This year the Gamemakers have decided to release the training scores after the opening ceremonies. I guess it's because the citizens of the Capital don't want to wait that long for the scores after seeing all the tributes in their costumes. So that is why I am laying here, my face screwed while my prep team rip large amounts of hair from my body. Memories of pain come flooding back from last year when I had the same treatment. Venia sends me a sympathetic smile as she rips another patch of hair off my skin.

"You're doing very well, as always." I respond with a quick smile which soon turns into a grimace as another load of hair gets plucked, each strand feeling like a needle as it comes out. "There, no more waxing. Grease!" Flavius snaps his fingers whilst Venia and Octavia rub me with a lotion that, after the stinging, feels soothing on my aching body. They then tell me to stand up and they pluck away any last hairs.

"Fabulous!" Flavius grins once they are done. "Now, Octavia can you- Octavia?" We all look over to see Octavia sobbing silently. She looks up and wipes the tears from her face "Oh, um, sorry, sorry. Yes I'll be right on it." She walks over to a table covered in jars and bottles. Flavius taps her on the shoulder and whispers; "Octavia, I was going to say could you get Cinna?" Octavia's eyes widen as her apologies spill out of her. The door shuts behind her and I turn to Venia. "What was wrong with her?" I ask. She and Flavius exchange glances before she answers. "She's been like that all morning. Although Octavia has made District 12 tributes pretty for a number of years now, you are the first to have survived. She must have grown attached to you- we all have- but when she gets upset, she cries a lot." I sigh. Of course it's stupid that my _Prep team_ of all people would cry because they would miss me. For God's sake. They're not being prepared for slaughter like a slab of meat.

When Cinna enters the room, I look up and say; "Please. Tell me you're not going to cry."

He only smiles. "I guess you had a tear filled morning. I'm not surprised, what with your charm and ability to make anyone feel welcome..." I glare back. Cinna laughs. "Ok then, down to business. Last year you wore flames and survived. But what happens after the fire? Close your eyes." I close my eyes and I feel my body being covered in a dusting of some sort, makeup being applied and fabric settling on my shoulders. Suddenly, the lights turn off and the fabric heats up slightly. Cinna whispers for me to open my eyes and I let off a small gasp. My face has been transformed but not so much that I am unrecognisable. Features have been re-drawn darker giving the impression I am mysterious. But my costume is absolutely wonderful. Black is the base colour but now I know what the heat is. There is a pack on the back which I have to be plugged into and that makes the whole suit glow. I look... stunning. No, more than stunning. I am unwelcoming. I am unforgiving.

Cinna turns the lights back on and switches me off. The suit looks a lot less dramatic now it is not active, but even the fabric on its own fits in such a way that only Cinna could have mastered it.

"So? Do you like it?" He waits patiently while I try to put what I have just witnessed into words. "I think you are a genius and that this costume has to be my favourite out of them all."

Cinna sighs. "Yes, I am rather good..." I shove him but I'm laughing and soon we're on the floor cracking up. It's kind of ironic considering that I'm probably going to die within the next three weeks, but laughter is a rare thing in the games, so I savour the moment.

Four hours later, Missy and I are waiting in our chariot for the ceremony to begin. The roar of the crowd now seems so distant, as if I am underwater. I gaze ahead at my fellow tributes. Because I am in District 12, I can see everyone's costumes, and I almost laugh. Most of the Districts this year have added an item that is on fire, given the idea from my costume last year. Some of the Districts, like District 7, could argue that they didn't steal the idea because wood burns, and that is fair enough. But others have absolutely no need for fire. Take District 10 for example. 10's main trade is in live stock, so where would fire mix with a bunch of cows? Obviously the opening ceremony, as both tributes have flaming belts.

The only District that does not have a fire element is District four. I guess it kind of makes sense, as their main trade is in fishing. Besides, they don't need fire. They have Finnick. Finnick is one of the most loved victors and has many capital lovers. He is wearing nothing but gold net with a knot over the appropriate places. His bronze hair is falling over his sea green eyes in a casual style, soft and carless. This will win him endless sponsors no doubt. My eyes drift from Finnick to the doors of the garage-like tunnel we are in. The many colours of the capital crowd take my breath away, even now. They all jump about, cheering and waving at us. Scarlett, violet and turquoise coloured coats blur into each other with the movement of the Capital citizens.

District 1 go first, as always, and start the parade. They have decided to ignore the other one, and try to win all the sponsors alone. Roses and hats rain down as District 2 rides out, soon followed by three. Missy glances at me, and I give her a friendly smile. We clasp each other's hands just as District 8 goes through the doors. "Nervous?" I say, without turning my head.

"Very." She replies without emotion. Cinna has instructed us to not wave, or cheer. We have to look straight ahead, without turning around. Missy and I both reach behind us and turn on the costumes, but not before District 11 has gone out to the waving and cheering crowd. The carriage jolts into action, and we ride out to the roar of the stadium.

For a moment, my hearing is slightly damaged, but then the full force of the noise hits me like a tonne of bricks. They all scream and are memorised by our stunning appearance, but soon they start throwing everything they have at us. My eyes are permanently fixed ahead, giving the impression that I will stop at nothing to win.

Soon, the carriage stops with all the other tributes, which are once again, glaring daggers at District 12. President Snow steps up onto a podium and begins his speech. I don't listen. I don't care. All I see on the screen are his snake eyes, darting around, but scanning the tributes. I can feel his glare settle on me, then pass on to the others. I decide to think about it later. For now, I should concentrate and the positive: I haven't seen Effie's reaction to my stunt at the Gamemaker sessions.


End file.
